Sequins and Whiskey ~ by Tracey Sivek

A form fitting red sequin dress lined with silk slipped over her body transforming

her nakedness into a showboat of desire

Adding the black heels and she was ready for the night.

The entrance:

:Men's heads turned as their eyes met the spectacular view of the woman in red as she entered the room.  Carrying herself with confidence and a seductive grace.  You could feel the masculine energy move across the room as each one knew they were going to try to have that right there mount them that night:.

It was as if she were in heat and each one of them caught her scent.  The mating dance began.

Drinks were purchased and placed in front of her with intent to weaken her.

Smiles, with bright white teeth and words that reeked with every innuendo possible spilled across her body.  

The teasing:

:Knowing her power she moved seductively in the dark light.  The sequins sparking and enhancing the movement of her breath...the rise and fall of her chest.  The exposed cleavage beckoning them all with thoughts of burying their desire between them soon.  Long soft ringlets of her blonde hair rest at the swell of her breasts and she would lean in to whisper simple nothings so they could catch her scent.  Kisses began.  Soft and simple yet leaving red residue on the lips of the desired.  The hands once resting on the knee moved up into her silk like thigh testing her, seeing where or if they would meet resistance:.

The alcohol burned as it flowed down her throat.  There is no high like being able to turn someone on so much you could feel their ache.  You could see the heated rise and her hand would get close and she'd just rest it there.  The scent of desire penetrated the senses of them both.

Excusing herself for a moment, she walked unknowingly by them all out the side door.

At home now, in front of the mirror she slowly removed her dress.  Blackened tears streaked down her face.  Pausing at her breasts she caressed them.  Playing with her hardened nipples between her fingers.  But then the rest of the dress dropped to the floor.

Exposed:

:There she stood, as is.  Broken.  Naked only to herself and for none to see.  Feeling forsaken by God and Universe as she looked at herself in the full length mirror.  She hated the view between her thighs....where her penis betrayed her worth:. 

Playing with fire, playing with desire, but not loving herself enough to be open and free.

The knife hit the vein, and in moments she wore the stains of a different red dress for all eternity.

Tracey is a native of Northern Michigan.  She has work on Writerscafe and Cosmofunnel.  She is also the Author of "Zero Evidence of Life" found on lulu.com.
Her publications include .
The Abyss, Under The Bleachers , and here at The Rye Whiskey Review .